


alas, we aspire

by soldierly



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Dark, M/M, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-03
Updated: 2011-12-03
Packaged: 2017-10-26 19:56:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/287260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soldierly/pseuds/soldierly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the end of it all, Erik and his Brotherhood triumph. Humanity and its supporters are enslaved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	alas, we aspire

"Bring him. That one."

One of the slavers seizes him, drags him forward by his collar, two rough fingers pressed between the leather and his skin. Wrenching, aching, the cold of the cement floor fading a little as his stiffened muscles are forced into motion.

He's shoved down. It doesn't hurt anymore. His knees are bloodied and torn and the skin is shredded from rough floors, from kneeling for so long, but he's numb, freezing. His chin is grasped, his jaw pushed up, his head tilted from side to side. Examined, like one would chattel. He keeps his eyes closed, as his training has taught him.

Is that all he is now?

"I like him," the same voice says. Cool and calm and smooth as steel. He knows that voice, and he can hear the urgency in it, riding so low that to anyone else, it would be imperceptible. But he's spent time listening to that voice, he's spent time examining the inflections and the subtle undertones. He's been exposed and flayed open and wrapped around that voice, that _person_. The collar around his neck might trap his powers, but even without telepathy, he knows who this is.

Fear ripples through him.

They barter quickly, slaver and master, and then Charles is pulled up, led away from the cold place and into the sunlight. People bustle around them, thick and loud, but they part for his master, and their way is made easy.

 _Why aren't you glad?_ something in him asks, small and tempered. _It's Erik. You know Erik. You love Erik_.

He's pushed into a car, the clamor of the market fading away behind soundproofed doors. He lifts his head, his eyes finding Erik's. Still so blue.

"I told you," Erik says absently. He's folding his gloves into his lap. His voice is fond. "Oh, Charles. I told you."

When Erik reaches for his neck, hope jumps in Charles's stomach, but there's only the devastating click of a new leash being clipped onto his collar.

 _No,_ he says to himself. _This isn't Erik_.

Magneto's fingers flick and his collar tightens. "Don't look so despondent, darling. You'll enjoy your stay with me."

Charles gives him a weak smile.

 _No, this is a new monster_.

Then, wryly, _And you created him_.


End file.
